What’s a Poem?

A whisper,
a shout,
thoughts turned
inside out.

A laugh,
a sigh,
an echo
passing by.

A rhythm,
a rhyme,
a moment
caught in time.

A moon,
a star,
a glimpse
of who you are.

from THE FATHER GOOSE TREASURY OF POETRY by Charles Ghigna

I like poems that make me LAUGH.
Sometimes I like poems that make me THINK.

I like poems that are SHORT and FUNNY.
Sometimes I like poems that are LONG and SERIOUS.

I like poems that RHYME.
Sometimes I like poems that have no rhymes.

Here are some different KINDS of poems.
Which kind would YOU like to write?

~ If-I-Were / If-You-Were ~

• • Father Goose created the If-I-Were and If-You-Were poems for kids. Each poem contains a little magic trick called the METAPHOR! A metaphor is a fancy way of saying COMPARISON!

  • Instructions:

  • COMPARE yourself to some THING (inanimate object), then COMPARE your friend to some THING else.  Notice that lines 2 and 4 rhyme. 

  • Here is an If-I-Were poem from by Charles Ghigna from LADYBUG magazine.

  • These poems make great Valentines!

    If I were a lonely lighthouse
    And you were a ship at sea,
    I'd shine my light through the night
    Till you returned to me.

    Here are two If-You-Were Poems from IF YOU WERE MY VALENTINE by Charles Ghigna.

    If you were a shining star
    And I were your midnight,
    I'd let you shine above me,
    You'd be my only light.

    If you were the pages of a book
    And I were reading you,
    I'd read as slow as I could go
    So I never would get through.

~ If-I-Had ~

• • Father Goose created the If-I-Had poem so you could use your wild imagination!

  • These poems also make great Valentines!

    If I had the sun on a string
    Like a giant yellow kite,
    I’d fly it over your house
    And chase away the night.

    If I had a sack of shooting stars
    Shining bold and bright,
    I’d give them all to you
    To wish on every night.

    If I had a jar of fireflies
    I would set them free
    To shine their light upon your face
    For everyone to see.

~ The Quatrain ~

• • A QUATRAIN is a group of 4 lines. That group is called a STANZA. The ballad stanza quatrain has a rhyme at the end of lines 2 and 4.

  • Here are poems that have QUATRAINS.

  • SCIENCE FACTION

    Nature, it’s true,
    Is full of surprises.
    The sun doesn’t set—
    The horizon rises!

  • WISTERIA

    Looks like grapes.
    Smells like roses.
    Springtime's gift
    To eyes and noses

• • THE BEE POEM

    A poem is a busy bee
    Buzzing in your head.
    His hive is full of hidden thoughts
    Waiting to be said.

    His honey comes from your ideas
    That he makes into rhyme.
    He flies around looking for
    What goes on in your mind.

    When it's time to let him out
    To make some poetry,
    He gathers up your secret thoughts
    And then he sets them free.

    A POEM IS A LITTLE PATH

    A poem is a little path
    That leads you through the trees.
    It takes you to the cliffs and shores,
    To anywhere you please.

    Follow it and trust your way
    With mind and heart as one,
    And when the journey's over,
    You'll find you've just begun.

  • THE COLD GRAY DAYS OF WINTER

    In the cold gray days of winter
    When the sky turns iron blue
    And the leafless trees stand silent
    With nothing left to do,

    There comes a cry across the land
    That carries seeds of spring,
    The echo of the distant hawk,
    The sun upon his wing.

~ Riddle Rhymes ~

• • Riddle Rhymes are fun to write! Each one contains a riddle. The answer to the riddle is at the end of the poem.

    Here are three Riddle Rhymes from the book RIDDLE RHYMES by Charles Ghigna.

    HIGH FLYER

    I fly above the tallest trees.
    I'm not a bird or plane.
    I have no wings or feathered things.
    I do not like the rain.

    I play among the passing clouds.
    I like to rise and sail.
    I am a friend who loves the wind.
    I'm big and have a tail.

    I like the gusty month of March.
    I soar way out of sight.
    My shape is like a diamond.
    I am a brand-new KITE.

    THE EVERLASTING LIGHT

    I shine forever free.
    I do not cost a cent.
    I need no bulb or battery.
    My light is permanent.

    You'll find me way up in the sky,
    When each new day's begun,
    But do not look me in the eye--
    I am the shining SUN.

    YOUR HIGHNESS

    I am a free and open field
    That's never out of bounds,
    Where kites and planes and boomerangs
    Can do their ups and downs.

    I am the biggest yard of all,
    Where birds begin their play
    Of hide-n-seek among the clouds
    At each new break of day.

    I am the place called outer space,
    Where nothing is too high.
    I am the home of all the stars--
    I am the endless SKY.

~ Haiku ~

• • The Japanese haiku (pronounced "hi-koo") is one of the oldest and shortest forms of poetry. The entire poem consists of only 17 syllables in 3 lines of 5-7-5 syllables. Haiku poems usually contain brief descriptions of nature and have no rhymes.

    Here are three haiku from HAIKU: THE TRAVELERS OF ETERNITY by Charles Ghigna.

    JUNE

    The cricket calls to
    the meadow, each evening he
    hears his echo sing.

    SEPTEMBER

    Shadows bow to the
    setting sun, pray to the sky
    for blessings of light.

    OCTOBER

    Artist autumn comes,
    paints her blush across each tree,
    drops palette, and leaves.

~ Free Verse ~

• • Free Verse poems can have any number of lines and they do not have to RHYME.

    Here are four free verse poems from THE FATHER GOOSE TREASURY OF POETRY by Charles Ghigna.

  • SNOWFALL IN THE CITY

    Covered in creamy
    birthday-cake frosting,
    the parked cars
    huddle beneath
    their streetlamp candles
    waiting for the North Wind
    to come make its wish
    for morning.

    SUNRISE

    Dawn breaks
    wakes
    turns the night
    into drops
    of dew
    that drip
    drip
    drip
    from the tip
    tip
    tips
    of swaying
    blades
    of morning
    grass
    that dance
    in the glow
    of the sudden
    sudden
    sun.

    SKYDIVER

    First step
    and he swallows
    the dry, delicious fear
    of walking on air.

    Body bent back
    into a bow,
    he falls into the arms
    of the screaming wind,
    his heart beating
    taps in his ears.

    Pop,
    and an angel wing
    pulls him from the thunder
    of a hundred
    mile an hour dream.

    He sits perched,
    a runaway cloud
    of contentment,
    a fearless eagle feather
    lost in the drift
    of an early afternoon.

    Knees bent, he pulls
    the taut reins of reality,
    ready-sets himself
    for one final, little lift,
    one last tiptoe of air
    before his flying feet
    must run their
    earth-bound way
    back home.

    ARS LONGA, VITA BREVIS

    (Art is Long, Life is Short)

    Like the sculptor
    who chips away
    at what is not
    the sculpture,
    your life
    is in your hands,
    the pure
    imperfect stone
    waiting for its
    daily touch,
    the gentle tap,
    the savored strike
    toward mass
    and space
    that form
    the perfect past,
    your tribute
    to the art
    of living.

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Have fun READING and WRITING poems!

We look forward to reading YOURS!

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